


Together

by SierraLaufeyson13



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Odyssey
Genre: F/M, Give this boy some love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21682162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraLaufeyson13/pseuds/SierraLaufeyson13
Summary: You’ve fought together, now you have the opportunity to be free –together.
Relationships: Alexios (Assassin's Creed)/Reader, Deimos (Assassin’s Creed)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86





	Together

BLOOD trickles down your temple and you can vaguely make out the metallic taste lingering on your tongue. Gravel digs into your cheek and exposed flesh. The hilt of your dagger is out of reach. Seleukos looms over you, laughing as you writhe. He places the sole of his armored sandal on the center of your back –pressing you further into the dirt. “Maybe you don’t have the blood of heroes,” the brute sneers, spitting blood-tinged saliva next to your head.

Men and women wearing painted masks gather to watch the spectacle. Seleukos removes his foot and staggers back. “Stay down, girl,” he hisses, but you’ve never been one for following orders. You lunge for the dagger and roll to the side, plunging the blade through his left foot. The brute yelps like a wounded hound –dropping his sword.

Rising from the dirt, you wipe the blood from your lips on the back of your hand and stand ready to fight once more. His fist connects with your stomach the same time you bring the knife down in a smooth slash, tearing open the skin on his chest. Seleukos sinks to his knees, clutching at the long gash. _They will always underestimate you_. Chrysis’s voice echoes in your mind. “Stay down, boy,” you mock –watching as true fear spreads across his mangled face. You grab a handful of his hair, exposing his neck to the cold bite of your blade.

Whispers spread among those gathered as Seleukos’s body twitches before growing still, but when he enters, the room grows silent. Deimos glances between the Cultists and you –standing over a fresh corpse of a fighter meant to entertain Belos. “Leave!” The command is directed at everyone except you.

“Deimos,” you greet with a bloody smile. He reaches out, touches the drying blood on your cheek –not accustomed to seeing your blood. He raises a brow in silent questioning. You turn into his hand, sparing a quick look at the corpse next to you and the puddle of red blooming beneath your feet. “He called me a whore,” you spit.

Deimos rolls his eyes but focuses on the reason he’d come to see you. “We have assignments on Kythira,” he announces. “We leave tonight.” 

* * *

THE Cult of Kosmos allies itself with pirates and mercenaries when transporting their weapons. The ship of Thaulos the Bloodthirsty is waiting in a cove east of Kirrha. Soon after boarding, the sight of land on the horizon is gone and all that remains is dark water. You keep to the large tent at the stern of the ship, teeth-gnashing together with each wave that rocks the ship. Deimos crouches next to you. “I hate sailing,” you growl. He scoffs but doesn’t leave.

As the ship comes to dock in a port that is not in Kythira, you sense something is not right. Thaulos will not uphold his end of the bargain. Unsheathing twin daggers you twist, plunging one of them deep into the neck of one of the deckhands -the bow he’d tried to string falls. Deimos is quick to draw his sword, cutting down those who advance.

A sharp cry is torn from your throat when an arrow sinks into your outer thigh. Deimos turns after eviscerating a pirate and sees you down on one knee, fighting to stand. He roars. Breaking off the shaft, you rise and race toward the archer –pushing through the pain. The flat of an oar collides with your temple, sending you backward into darkness. Deimos smites down those standing in his path.

When you wake, it is to a throbbing pain in your leg and head. You try sitting up, but a firm hand pushes you to lay back down. “Don’t,” Deimos says, sitting next to you. _If one of you falls, the other must keep moving forward. We cannot lose you both_. Chrysis had spoken those words before every mission when you were younger. Ignoring him, you sit up and inspect your wounded thigh. A pack of herbs and flowers is secured against the entry and exit points of the arrow. In the corner of the room is a cowering physician, bound and gagged. You frown.

“What happened?” You ask in weak, scratchy voice.

His earthy gaze turns dark and his face twists in anger. “We were betrayed.” Thaulos had never planned on sailing to Kythira. The pirate had meant to get rich by taking you and Deimos to the Arena in Messara.

“We can’t fail,” you remind him. “Not again.”

It had been a mission in Messenia to eliminate a leader to keep the status quo in the Cult’s favor. You and he had both underestimated the strength of the old leader and the ranks of men he commanded. The leader had fled to safety and the Cult’s hold on the region loosened. Upon returning to Delphi and learning of the failure, the leader had made it clear if either you or Deimos failed again the consequences would be dire.

Deimos grips onto your chin, not ungentle and peers into your eyes. “They can try to take you from me,” he says, vow low and grating. His hand slips up to caress your jaw and cheek. You lean into the touch. “It will be the last mistake they make,” he promises.

Your attention shifts back to the man in the corner, his eyes wide and frightened. “Let the poor man go,” you urge and he complies with reluctance. The physician leaves ample supplies to continue caring for the wound and flees the small abandoned house –swearing to never speak of this day again. Deimos sits next to you, quiet and brooding. Sighing, you lean against his shoulder. He looks down his nose at you, brows furrowed, but eventually settles his arm around your waist. 

* * *

“ALEXIOS!” Kassandra shouts as her brother leaves the _Adrestia_ in a cold rage after docking in Phokis. He stops in his tracks and turns. “Where are you going?” She asks.

His jaw clenches as he glances in the direction of the Temple of Apollo. “There’s someone I need to find.” Something akin to guilt takes hold of him every time he thinks of you. He should have taken you to Taygetos with him, instead, you’d insisted on staying to clean up Kleon’s mess in Athens.

When he enters the dark cell, it takes a few long seconds before you realize who it is. He no longer wears the armor given to him by the Cult –it is replaced by a simple leather breastplate and a fraying red scarf draped over his broad shoulders. “Deimos?”

He doesn’t answer, only loosens the ropes binding your hands above your head and catches you in his arms when you slump forward –exhausted and aching. The skin of your wrists has been rubbed raw, bruises cover your arms, and blood has dried on your nose and lips. “Who did this to you?” He asks, voice full of rage.

“Exekias,” you choke. The Sage of the Cults Heroes had made torturing and using you into a sport after Deimos had abandoned the cause. He thought you were the key to force Deimos back into the Cult’s arms.

Alexios sinks to the cave floor with you in his arms. “I’ll kill him,” he hisses through clenched teeth. You smile, leaning further into him as fatigue and darkness take you.

“MY brother wouldn’t shut up about you,” the Eagle Bearer remarks arms crossed as she takes you in. She’d never seen you in person but had heard rumors of Deimos’s counterpart –a warrior just as fierce as he, descended from Achilles himself. She finds those tales difficult to believe now that she has sized you up –you don’t have the harsh look of a warrior. _Achilles had been beautiful too_ , she reminds herself.

“Kassandra,” Alexios laments as he approaches. Kassandra gives an exasperated sigh and retreats to the helm of her ship. He kneels next to you. “We should check your bandages,” he announces, clearing his throat and revealing the strips of linen he carries.

There is something different about him – he looks gentler. “Deimos?” You murmur.

He glances up from your wrist. “That-” he pauses and a pained expression flashes across his face “-that’s not my true name.”

You’ve heard them speak his name before –the one given to him by his mother, but never before him. He was Deimos, a demigod. “Alexios?” He nods, quickly returning his focus to your wounds. “Alexios,” you breathe, lifting your hand to his cheek and coaxing him to look at you. His eyes are a deep, earthy brown with glints of tarnished gold and flame. They still expose his hurt and fury. You lean forward, tentatively brushing your lips against his. There’s a moment’s pause before he cradles the back of your head –pressing his lips fully against yours.

He’s waited years to be able to hold you –kiss you without fearing repercussions should other Cultist find out. Chrysis had told him love was childish and the world was pain. But he loves you –even if he never did know how to show it or forced himself to never say it. He has a fool’s hope that maybe you might love him too. Alexios pulls away, but lets his forehead rest upon yours, rough fingertips ghosting over your battered cheek. “We’re free now,” he whispers. “We’re not puppets or weapons anymore.” You swallow the lump in your throat and try to silence the voice in your head that challenges if you can truly ever be free.

Alexios presses his lips against yours again –just because he can. This time, he can feel your lips tugging into a smile against his. “All right, lovebirds,” Kassandra says, interrupting. You and Alexios part again. “I think it might be time to get a room.” He glares at his sister but when he turns to see your flushed cheeks, he laughs softly, returning to the task at hand.

When night falls, the _Adrestia_ has left port again. You’re still not fond of sailing, but it feels good to leave Phokis behind. Alexios lays at your side, looking up at the stars. Reaching over, you entangle your fingers with his. Absently, he strokes over your knuckles with his thumb. As you begin to drift off, Alexios pulls you closer to him –arm wrapped around your waist. He presses his nose into the crown of your head swears to never let go.


End file.
